“Get ready. She’s going live in just under a minute,” Cameron announced.
I glanced up at Ian, who watched me intently in the hope that something, anything would come to me. For the words I was about to speak, whatever they were, would be responsible for even more death and destruction. Deaths that would only benefit Brooks that much more; deaths of the innocent, of those just trying to recapture the lives they had once known and believed were still possible.
It was still possible, and I wouldn’t lead them to believe anything different.
“Celaine,” Cameron said, “you may begin talking in three, two, one, go.”
I looked up at the teleprompter, and studied the words that appeared across the screen. They were there for me to say, but whether or not I said them was still my decision.
“We’re recording,” Cameron said, “which means you need to start talking sometime today.”
I nodded my understanding and looked directly into the camera as best as I could through my helmet. “Good morning,” I began, a harmless enough statement, though I knew the rest of the message would pack more of a punch. “Let me begin by saying that I have been overwhelmed with the amount of concern you have shown for my well-being. Although my wound was quite serious, and my recovery questionable early on, I am standing before you alive, well, and with a newfound resolution to fight by your side and keep you safe.”
I silently read the text that followed: Members of an organized rebellion have chosen time and time again to defy our president and his stalwart resolve to maintain order and security, even going so far as to orchestrate an assassination attempt against him. The rebels are dangerous and must be stopped. Their existence threatens the very fabric of our society. They will stop at nothing to tear us down, and watch our country burn to ashes in the process.
Lies. Nothing but lies designed to generate hatred and fear, further shielding the public’s eyes from the real threat to our country: President Brooks.
“Celaine,” Cameron said, snapping his fingers, “the camera is still rolling.” I glanced from Cameron back to the teleprompter, unmoved.
Life has a way of testing us all. Some people rise to the occasion, masterfully tackling whatever is thrown their way, while others shrink back and let the darkness consume them, never bothering to fight back. This was my time to fight back. My silence, ear-splitting and deafening, was me choosing to fight no matter what the consequences. It was the only weapon I had to yield, yet it was the best possible weapon I could use considering the circumstances.
There was no test I couldn’t pass.
“Ms. Stevens,” Victor said in a near growl.
“Thank you all for your concern and for taking the time to listen to me speak this morning,” I said, making eye contact with my invisible audience. “I promise I won’t let you down anymore.”
With that, I turned and walked out of the training center, leaving the camera to record dead air, Cameron’s mouth hanging down to the floor, and Victor more furious than I’d ever seen him before.
Chapter Seven
A Turning Point
“What are you doing out here?” Kara asked me from her seat on the couch in the sitting room. Drew was perched at the other end of the couch, while other members of The Epicenter, including Kyle, Becca, Dr. Harris, Dr. Martin, and Inez, were scattered around the room. All looked at me expectantly. “Your speech goes live in three minutes.”
“What do you mean it goes live in three minutes?” I asked, perplexed. “I just gave it. It should have been live already.”
“Did you think I would allow you to do anything of any grave importance without me being able to have some form of control or say in the matter?” Victor’s sudden reply startled me.
I turned around to see him standing no less than six feet behind me. From behind Victor, Ian approached the sitting room and stood next to me. “What do you mean? What have you done?” I demanded.
“Calm down, Ms. Stevens. You’re about to find out what a spectacular orator you really are.” Victor smirked, nodding his head toward the television screen.
If it were truly possible for blood to boil, I would make a strong argument that mine was beginning to boil over. A heat overspread my body as President Brooks appeared on screen and began speaking. He gave a small synopsis of the events that had transpired at the address—his version of the events, anyway—without wasting any time vilifying the rebellion and those who believe in and support their cause.
“And as you will recall,” Brooks began again, “we nearly lost one of our own that day. One of our nation’s beloved superheroes was critically wounded in her fight to contain the rebels from slaughtering innocent civilians. She was shot in the upper chest by another rebellion member as she attempted to detain their leader, Marshall Leitner. But in a valiant act, her partner managed to save her life, swiftly helping her obtain the medical attention she so desperately needed.”
I glanced over at Ian, and brushed my fingers across his forearm. He briefly broke his gaze away from the television to return my stare; a small smile flirted with the corners of his lips, both comforting and sad at the same time.
“I’m happy to tell you all today that she is alive and doing well, considering the circumstances. Her body has healed at quite a miraculous rate, readying itself for our ongoing battle against the rebellion, and our fight to take back our country.” As usual, he was perfectly coiffed, his blue suit neatly pressed. He’d be handsome if it wasn’t for the evil that flowed through his veins from the black heart that beat inside his chest. “And it is my honor to announce that she has agreed to give a live statement to you all this morning with a message concerning her firsthand experience with the rebellion, including their motives and measures you can perform to keep your family safe.”
“Isn’t he going to be surprised,” I muttered to Ian.
A moment later, my image appeared on the screen. Despite my mask, if you looked closely, you could see my lips pursed into a hard line, an obvious hardened resolve imprinted on them. “Good morning.” My voice came through the speakers as I began to talk. My shortened speech would be seen as yet another act of defiance against Brooks. There were only so many of those I would get, and my last one was fast approaching, if I hadn’t already expended it. I had to do something, and it had to be soon, before Brooks and Victor found a way to silence me forever. My life must mean something before I could allow my heart to stop beating a final time. “…to fight by your side and keep you safe.”
“Well, that wraps that up,” I said, turning around to walk down the hall. But I only made it two steps before my voice came across the speakers again, louder and more resolute than before. “Members of an organized rebellion have chosen time and time again to defy our president…” The speech, the one I was supposed to give, was somehow coming from my lips in my voice. Stiffening, I watched while the words I had been ordered to say came from me seamlessly. Words I would never say, words that condemned the rebellion, words that would cause more chaos than good. Then as soon as I had said them, I was gone, the damage done, and Brooks getting exactly what he wanted. “You son of a bitch,” I all but yelled as I turned around and made a mad dash toward Victor with one purpose in mind.
*****
“Chase, it’s about to start,” Paige called from the living room.
“Okay,” he answered from the kitchen, closing the door to the dishwasher before grabbing a glass of water from the counter.
“What is this, another address?” Trey asked.
“I’m not sure, but I’m willing to give someone who saved my life a moment of my time, no matter what forum they’re using.” Chase sat on the couch next to Paige, while Trey slumped in a recliner. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Who knows, as much trouble as you’ve been finding yourself in lately, you’ll probably get a chance to thank her personally,” Trey said with a laugh that was cut short by Paige’s annoyed glare. “Or not,” he muttered.
“Finall
y,” Chase said, leaning back against the couch.
The television switched from President Brooks to the image of the masked superhero, dressed in black.
“Would it kill them to add a little color to their wardrobe?” Paige muttered.
“Yes, I totally agree,” Trey said, “because color coordination is so crucial to the survival of humanity.”
“Enough, you two,” Chase interceded, ignoring Paige’s wide-eyed glare.
“Good morning,” the woman superhero’s voice came across the television. “Let me begin by saying that I have been overwhelmed with the amount of concern you have shown for my well-being.”
The sound of glass shattering on the wooden floor rattled the room, drawing attention away from the message on the television.
“Chase, what is it?” Paige asked, concerned. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“You could say that,” he said, shaking. “I think my blood sugar may be running a little low. Would you mind getting me a glass of juice?”
“Of course,” Paige replied, running to the kitchen.
“What’s going on?” Trey asked.
“Does—does she sound familiar to you?”
“Not any more familiar than any other girl out there. Seriously, man, you have no color left in your face. Are you feeling all right?”
“She doesn’t in the slightest way sound like anyone you’ve ever met before? Ever?”
“Who? You mean, like Celaine?” Trey asked, his eyebrow raised. “First, the mall, now this. Chase, you know you’re like a brother to me, but you really need to get it together. That’s not Celaine behind that mask. You know it’s not. She despised Brooks. There’s no way she would support him in any way, especially after the events that transpired at the address. Plus, she couldn’t do what those superheroes do physically. The girl practically tripped over her own two feet.”
Chase nodded. “I know. Logically, I know what you’re saying makes sense, but—”
“You miss her still. It’s okay, I understand.”
“I’m going crazy, Trey. Certifiably nuts, I think.”
“Here,” Paige said, returning with a plastic cup, a dishrag and a broom.
Chase took the cup from her and placed it to his lips, taking in the orange juice. “Thank you.”
“You look like you’re feeling better already.”
“I am. The juice seems to have worked wonders.”
“How can she possibly be defending Brooks?” Trey asked.
“What? What do you mean?” Chase asked, turning up the volume on the television.
“They will stop at nothing to tear us down, and watch our country burn to ashes in the process. Everyone, including your neighbors, educators, friends, and even your own family should be regarded as potential suspects. Watch their behavior. Report them, if you feel as though what you see warrants it. With your help, we will restore order.”
“It’s her voice, yes, but she’s not saying the words,” Chase said, inching closer to the screen.
“If you can hear her voice, how is it that she’s not saying the words?” Trey asked, perplexed.
“Look at her lips. The words you hear don’t match up to the words she’s saying. It’s like they recorded her saying something else and then imposed her voice over it.”
“So, this isn’t live, then?”
“I think whether or not this is a live broadcast is the least of our worries. They have used this message, whether her words or not, to rally everyone against the rebellion. The entire country is going to turn on each other, completely forgetting what the real problem is.”
“So, what you’re saying is, there’s going to be a war—neighbor against neighbor?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Amidst the chaos, Brooks will rise, more powerful than he’s ever been before, while society as we know it self-destructs.”
*****
I was inches away from Victor when I felt Ian’s arms around my body, swiftly pulling me back. “Let me go,” I yelled.
Ian pulled me to his body. “Calm down, Celaine. Not here, not now,” he whispered into my ear.
“Yes, Mr. Grant, why don’t you let her finish what she was attempting to start? Perhaps, she’ll then learn a newfound respect for the person responsible for her life, and for who she is today.”
“The only thing you’re responsible for is taking my life. My parents were the ones who gave me it, not you. You should have had Blake shoot me on the rooftop instead of drawing out this cruel punishment you’ve bestowed on us all.”
“Come on,” Ian said, still maintaining a firm grip around my waist. “Let’s walk away.”
“Mr. Grant, I ask that you please teach her some respect, wherever you’re taking her.”
“Don’t react. That’s what he wants you to do,” Ian whispered. “Just calm down and walk away with me.”
I eyed Victor with what I hoped was enough of a death stare to make him keel over from a heart attack at that very moment. No such luck. Behind Victor, hiding like the coward he is, stood Cameron. Immediately, I could feel my anger boiling within me once more.
“What have you done?” I blurted out, my mouth in a sneer. “Really, how are you able to look yourself in the mirror every morning?” He looked away, unable to look me in the eye or counter with any response in his defense. Very unlike him. “Answer me,” I pressed on. “How are you able to do nothing but lie for a living, knowing full well that your lies cause the deaths of countless innocent people?”
“Come on,” Ian said, pulling me along.
I glared at Cameron for as long as he stayed in my line of sight. Victor must have warned him to keep his mouth shut, for I’ve never seen him so quiet before. His demeanor almost made him appear truly ashamed of what he had done, but if that was the case, why did he do it? Why does Victor have such a hold over him, or anyone else, for that matter?
“Remind me never to piss you off,” Ian said when we were further down the hall.
“I really wish you hadn’t held me back. All I wanted was one shot, just one shot at that smug little face.”
“You know this isn’t about Cameron, right? He was just carrying out the orders he was given. In a sense, he’s a victim, too.”
“A victim? I’m not sure I would go that far.”
“Just because a person doesn’t cry out in pain doesn’t mean they aren’t dying on the inside.”
We stopped in front of Ian’s door, growing silent, an awkwardness present that hadn’t been there before. “What happens now?” Ian finally asked.
“With what?” A knot steadily formed in my stomach with the thought of the ‘what’ being the status of our relationship. That was a question I wasn’t prepared to answer, but I knew I could only dance around it so many times before the rug was pulled out from under me entirely.
“Here. Surely, with tensions being so high between you and Victor, our utter lack of focus on The Man in Black, and our orders to stop a rebellion whose ideals we both agree with, something has got to give eventually.”
“It already has,” I agreed. “What that means for us, I don’t know, though. It’s something we’ll have to figure out.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, “we’ll figure it out.”
When I turned to go back to my room, I felt horrible for having lied to Ian. In reality, I had already figured out what I was going to do. I’d made a choice; one that would have dire consequences for me, and one that I couldn’t allow Ian to be a part of. No one else would suffer because of the decisions I made.
Tonight I would leave The Epicenter and join the rebellion.
Chapter Eight
Now or Never
Jeremiah Delaney awoke to the screech of the steel door of his cell scraping against the concrete floor. Instinctively, he shielded his eyes—as much as the shackles around his wrists would allow—from the invading light, a sight his eyes had not seen in several days. His stomach growled from hunger, his mouth painfully parched as though he�
��d been chewing on sandpaper.
“What is it, Carver?” he called out, his voice ragged. He’d correctly acknowledged his visitor’s presence without having looked at him. “Have you regained a sense of humanity and finally come to put me out of my misery?”
“In due time, my friend,” President Carver Brooks said with a laugh. “Actually, I’ve come to see whether you’ve come to your senses about Marshall Leitner.” Brooks leaned against the doorframe of the cell, flanked on both sides by an armed guard. “He’s a very dangerous man, Jeremiah, and I would really appreciate you telling me where I can find him.”
“The only person he’s a danger to is you, Carver.” A dry cough escaped from his lips, sending pain shooting through his body, over skin that was losing its elasticity, bruises that weren’t permitted to heal, and open wounds from the whip that had been used to strike him into submission. “What makes you think I know where he is, or better yet, what makes you think I would tell you if I did know?”
“You try my patience, Jeremiah. After all I’ve done for you, and you turn on me at the drop of a hat. And for what? Power? Some self-righteous design to make the world a better place?”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Carver, because you turned on yourself. Somewhere along the line, you allowed the power to get to you, so much so that you became intoxicated by it. It’s like a drug that you refuse to get out of your system, no matter who or what you take down in the process.” As he lifted his arm, Jeremiah’s eyes adjusted to the light enough to allow him to look in the direction of the doorway. “Look at you,” he said, his voice shaking. “Look at the evil you’ve become. The lives you’ve destroyed; the murders you’ve taken part in. It will all catch up to you eventually. Whether it happens weeks, months, or years from now, it will all catch up to you.”
“Thank you for those riveting words of wisdom, but I suppose all they mean is that you still are not willing to cooperate with me and make your death a little more dignified.”
Redemption (Enigma Black Trilogy Book #3) Page 5